


‘Evan Anthony and Blade Bradley’

by novadiablo



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Case, M/M, Masturbating, Porn, gay porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 15:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novadiablo/pseuds/novadiablo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's been back for a year and is working solo on a case because John is working for the whole week, but he requests John's help for something very much 'not his area'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	‘Evan Anthony and Blade Bradley’

Sherlock took a bite of his toast, barely even looking at it in favour of whatever was on the screen of his laptop, and John felt a sense of victory. He pulled his blazer on and grabbed his keys before daring to get the man’s attention. “Sherlock?” he said and the man almost jumped, looking up at the John and then at the toast in his hand in mild horror. He looked back a John accusingly but the man just smiled blandly. “I’m going to work, okay? I’ll be back at seven. Try not to make any important decisions with the skull while I’m gone.” Sherlock rolled his eyes rather dramatically before his face lit up a little, slowing John’s steps.

“Oh, John, I might need your help for an hour or two this evening.” He looked at John piercingly, enough so that John was a little concerned, but the doctor nodded his consent before heading down the stairs. This was his fifth consecutive full day at Barts – the lecturer he was filling in for had been struck down with an apparently alarming bout of gastro. Sherlock had picked up his current case on Tuesday through a private client and he’d been working somewhat continuously since then almost entirely without John’s assistance. It wasn’t a usual case for Sherlock – from what John could tell it involved a lot of searching through files that Sherlock would usually leave to the Yard, but as the case was private the boring work had been left to the man himself.

The nature of the case was also unlike Sherlock’s usual clientele is as far as that it related to sex, quite directly so. The man who’d come in search of Sherlock’s assistance was the owner of a relatively successful pay-per-view gay porn website twinksromancesomethingorother.com. John hadn’t met him and, quite honestly, didn’t really feel compelled to. He’d never met porn star (well, as far as he knew) but he imagined the owner of a porn website would be similar to pimps or brothel owners. Not very nice people who tended to rip people off. 

Sherlock seemed to be handling the case fine – they never did have that discussion about Sherlock’s virginity or lack there-of. Apparently one of the men who worked for the owner had found access to the accounts that ran the site and unlocked it to the entirety of the internet. According to Sherlock the leak had been fixed impressively quickly, but some money was also missing from one of the small bank accounts held by the owner and he was determined to find out who it was and cut off their royalties.

He walked into the lecture theatre to find the usual rabble of medical students, most of them looking half dead, the other half – the ones who would ultimately fail – looked either high, drunk or like they’d spent the weekend having the best sex of their lives. John reflected back on his med school days and figured they probably had (he’d almost failed). One girl that John couldn’t quite place on either side of that divide flashed him a prize-winning smile from her front row seat that clearly showed her to be one of the girls he’d wanted to get in with very badly in his day – the girls who got with lecturers. Luckily, age had changed him and he only saw a young woman with too many hormones for one human being, so he smiled his second bland smile of the day. He clipped the microphone onto his shirt and plugged his (Sherlock’s) hard drive into the desktop sat on the desk and greeted them all as his PowerPoint presentation started up.

~

The lecture went well and he left swiftly to go catch Molly for lunch. He had entirely forgiven her for her part in Sherlock’s deception; in fact, he’d never blamed her in the first place – he knew Sherlock’s reasoning, and maybe he hadn’t forgiven the man himself for not coming up with a better solution but Molly was hardly to blame. The woman had become infinitely more confident since the incident – in fact, John secretly thought that Moriarty’s manipulation of her had given her the push she needed to become a stronger person. She was charming, lovely, beautiful, kind and she had a laugh like honey, and before Mary, before Sherlock had returned, well – he wouldn’t have thought twice. Now though, he’d missed his chance anyway (never again was he trusting Clara with anyone he introduced her to).

Harry still hadn’t forgiven him for his supposed part in their engagement, but Harry was a bitch and John only spoke to her when his guilt overtook him – she’d been entirely unsupportive after Sherlock’s death and after Mary’s (his _wife_ died and still she whined at him) and when Sherlock returned she blamed John, of all people. It saddened John to see that her brain function was so impaired by the alcohol but he had done all he could to help her and there came a point where nothing could change her bitterness.

“Hello, John,” Molly smiled as she sat down placing her purse and double strength coffee down on the table as she sat. He grinned at her and she smiled wider, looking furtively away. They did this every day; John would use the deductive skills learnt off Sherlock to see if the night before had been a busy one and Molly would give it away immediately with her expressions. John never told her that the strength of her coffee was a giveaway more than anything. They chatted quietly for a while before they were interrupted. 

“Doctor Watson – oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you had company!” The girl from his lecture stood above him, clutching her books to her chest nervously and throwing Molly a smile that most certainly didn’t reach her eyes.

“That’s okay,” John said good-naturedly, “how can I help you?” The girl smiled again and fluttered her eyelashes at him, giggling a little.

“I’m Ally, from your last lecture,” she said, gesturing backwards with her free hand meaninglessly. “I’m having a bit of trouble understanding a few of your points, I was wondering if maybe you had some time to talk me through it in a bit more detail…?” She posed the last sentence as a question and fluttered at him again, but he simply cleared his throat.

“I’m afraid I’m all booked up, today,” he said, smiling at Molly who was clearly close to giggling, “and besides, I’m sure your tutor would expla-“

“Dinner, tonight then?” the girl rushed to ask, “I know a lovely chippie just down the road…” A date at the chippie? How very university. John was almost willing to go just to reminisce, but knew he couldn’t.

“Sorry, Ally, I’ve promised to help a friend out with some work stuff tonight and I really can’t leave him hanging. You ask your tutor and if you’re still having trouble I can give you a few minutes next week if I’m still here, okay?” He said in the funny tone he’d perfected that said that she should, under no circumstances, seek out his assistance – but in the nicest way possible. The girl smiled at him feebly and rushed off in a blur of honey-blonde hair, and John faced Molly’s highly amused and inquisitive expression.

“Jesus,” he said, rubbing his forehead, “did our lecturers ever have to deal with this stuff?” he asked her, staring down at his caramel slice. 

“Oh yes,” Molly nodded with certainty and John raised an eyebrow at her. “What! I was too nervous to talk to people my own age. It’s not my fault!” John giggled with her as she sipped her coffee. Her breaks weren’t as long as his, sadly. She smiled softly.

“So what are you helping Sherlock with tonight?” She asked, sipping once again at her coffee quickly, almost gulping.

“Oh, he’s been on this case regarding a gay porn company, of all things. I’m terrified he’s going to make me infiltrate the place or something.” Molly laughed her light laugh, the one that was a little disbelieving and maybe slightly nervous.

“Shouldn’t be a big deal, even if he does. You’re not gay.” She drained her coffee and made to stand up, but something in John’s eyes and his smirky smile made her sink back down. She narrowed her eyes at him and he scrunched up his nose.

“Yeah, but I’m not straight either,” he said lowly with a devious grin and he watched as Molly’s eyes narrowed even more and then widened further than he imagined possible.

“John Watson!” she hissed, her voice scandal-ridden, “since when?” John shifted in his chair in false discomfort. He was surprised Molly didn’t know, to be honest – Clara did. Then again, Clara was a decent person and would therefore leave John to do his own coming out to Molly. Before he could answer her, she asked another question. “Does Sherlock know?”

“Of course Sherlock knows, he knows everything!” John said, despite the fact Sherlock had never mentioned it, “and it sort of started in the army, I mean, it’s quite prejudiced amongst the ranks but people trusted me and one or two shared some… relief with me – nothing serious and it wasn’t that great. But, after Mary, well… more than one or two.” 

Instead of dwelling on Mary like she would have a few years ago she spoke up. “How did I _not_ know this? Does Clara know this? Does _Harry_ know this?”

John clenched a little at Harry’s name, but relaxed himself enough to speak with strain. “Yes, Clara does know, no Harry doesn’t know and doesn’t need to, and you’ve run over your lunch break by seven minutes, it’ll be ten by the time you get there, so _go_ , I will bin your coffee.”

“This is not the end of this conversation!” the woman called behind her as she sped across the cafeteria.  


~

  
John was a little late – one of the international students forgot where he parked his car and John took it upon himself to help him find it – which meant that Sherlock was waiting impatiently by the time he got in. The man was sitting on the arm of the lounge back against the wall and John’s eyes flicked to the tv set in front of it. Sherlock had obviously done some rearranging while he’d been gone.

“Oh, finally,” the genius drawled, dramatically slumping back to half lay on the couch. “Hurry up and have your tea or whatever and then come and sit here. I need you to have a look at something – a fresh eye, if you will.”

John rolled his eyes and set down his briefcase and keys to flick on the kettle. While it was boiling he stepped out of his shoes, went to the bathroom and relieved himself and splashed a little water on his face. He automatically made two cups of tea and set them both down on the coffee table as Sherlock inserted the DVD. The man settled down next to him, taking his tea and swinging his legs onto the table. He was wrapped in his dressing gown tightly and he sunk low into the couch, slumping.

“I’ve watched all of the films he supplied me four times each and I’m not seeing anything. I need to know if you observe something you wouldn’t usually see as I have limited knowledge in this area.”

_What area?_ was what John was going to say but too quickly the words _‘Evan Anthony and Blade Bradley’_ flashed up on the screen and then two stunning young men sitting on a brightly coloured couch came into view. They were the hipster type, one with black rimmed glasses and all, but they were gorgeous and very clearly _porn star_. “Um, Sherlock?” John got out before Sherlock hushed him.

“Shh, you need to hear the dialogue,” so John shut up. The acting was bad, but not as bad as some of the films he’d watched, and it wasn’t straight out fucking – in fact, it was romantic. “It’s catered towards women and men who need more than just sex,” Sherlock narrated lowly as the two men began to kiss. “The one on the right is the boyfriend of the owner and I’ve narrowed it down to him or another man; according to some of his peers he’s been acting strangely…” John was barely listening; he was enraptured by the kiss on screen. The detail was magnificent – he could see lips sticking together briefly, strings of spittle, and soft, supposedly nervous swipes of tongues. Hands were roaming and lifting up shirts to reveal slim, almost malnourished stomachs and chests and when the bespectacled man swooped down to take the other man’s nipple gently in his teeth John couldn’t deny the feeling growing in his abdomen. 

Shirts were entirely removed and muscles moved smoothly under airbrushed skin and John marvelled at how gorgeous the men were – they could easily have been Calvin Klein models. The bespectacled man – ‘Blade’ – began palming ‘Evan’ through his jeans and when ‘Evan’ bucked up John had to hold back a whimper; his eye twitched. Soon that hand slipped into the jeans and pants and grasped onto an impressive looking cock, covering most of it so only the glistening tip was showing. John did make a noise then, but covered it up as him clearing his throat. 

He glanced at Sherlock who was looking at him, unimpressed, and then turned back to the screen. Both of the men were only in briefs now and grinding against each other, kissing passionately. John bit his lip sharply – he could see the outlines of their testicles moving through the gaps in their pant-legs and the tips of their cocks left streaks of shine on their stomachs. He could feel his own cock thickening and prayed that Sherlock was too busy analysing the tele to notice the tenting. Suddenly a door slammed on the television and John and the two men in the film jumped. A gorgeous young thing walked in. 

He looked like Q from the new James Bond but with dark ringlets and Doc Martens and he looked like he was about to yell before he stopped. He smiled to Blade – he was meant to be the guy’s boyfriend, Sherlock supplied in a deep voice and that _wasn’t helping_ – and told him to continue. Reluctantly, Blade did while the new guy unashamedly palmed himself through his skin-tight jeans. The action left John’s mouth dry and he shuffled away from Sherlock a bit, trying to ignore the heat of the man’s leg. John couldn’t help but whimper when the new man pulled out a prominent erection and Sherlock’s annoyed ‘John’ just added fuel to the fire, but John choked out a ‘sorry’.

The original men gradually moved to fucking, showing preparation and prostate massage and John’s erection was well and truly there by now, pressing against his fly like nobody’s business. When the two began screwing in earnest need flared inside John and his throat made a noise like a growl. It wasn’t until the newer man began running his fingers around the rim of his ‘boyfriend’s’ arse – an arse that was currently being stuffed – that Sherlock spoke up. “For God’s sake John, I won’t be offended if you masturbate – I _will_ be offended if you are useless to this investigation.”

John huffed at that – there was no way in the world he was doing that in front of Sherlock – the man was above it all and the last thing John needed was to have that last bit of privacy taken away. He kept his eyes on the television and a tiny whimper escaped him the when guy’s finger slipped into that slick little hole beside the penis pumping into it. John squeezed his legs together as another and another slipped in, and god, four? “John,” warned Sherlock and John couldn’t help but slip a hand down and squeeze his dick and _god_ that felt good. Suddenly the slap of skin on skin stopped and ‘Evan’ pulled ‘Blade’ up to him, still embedded in his arse, and the boyfriend lay down underneath, slicking up his cock. 

John squeezed again, a shudder coursing through him and he diligently kept his eyes on the screen, not daring to look at Sherlock. ‘Blade’ lay back down on his boyfriend in the film and ‘Evan’ continued thrusting. A well-placed camera also showed the boyfriend slowly slipping his cock into ‘Blade’s’ arse and god, double penetration? John gave up all semblance of control and hastily unbuckled his belt. Fuck Sherlock, fuck the case, and fuck these stupidly hot guys. He spat on his hand though he barely needed to – the build-up of pre-come was sufficient. His hand plunged into his pants and he began rubbing, moaning softly through his nose at the sensation. “Oh god,” he whispered as he watched the two cocks plunging in and out of the poor arsehole. There was a lot of panting from the tele and John matched it quietly, his eyes riveted to the screen. His hand was swift and tight around his cock and thankfully his trousers gave him plenty of room to move in, and he’d never felt more like a teenage boy, even when he was one.

Blade blindly searched for a kiss and when his boyfriend’s mouth reached his own John felt orgasm rock his body. His eyes snapped over to Sherlock and what he saw heightened the second surge, soaking his fingers, because the man was looking at him with his mouth open and lips slick, his eyes drooping. John had to close his eyes as a third surge hit him and then he slumped back, peeling his eyes open to see ‘Blade’ coming as his gaze bored into John’s through the tele screen. He frowned, trying to pull himself into reality again, his hand still on his sticky cock.

“Sherlock?” he said, turning to the man who was still staring at him, pupils blown.

“Mmm?” was all the reply he got as the man’s eyes focused in on John’s hand.

“Did Blade look at the camera in any of the other films?” he asked, but Sherlock ignored him before suddenly coming to, as though waking up.

“What?” he asked, shaking his head a little to clear it.

“I said,” John replied, his voice husky, “did Blade ever look into the camera before?”

Sherlock stared at John but this time because he was thinking swiftly and in depth, before he froze. “John, you’re fantastic!” He cried out, leaping to his feet and grabbing John by the head and kissing him on his forehead. 

Then he was gone, down the stairs before John could even register what happened.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed and written late at night. Also rich text editor refuses to work, I've done my best with HTML but it's not my strong point so sorry for any formatting issues. Possible sequel? Sherlock obviously has some stuff to sort out. Lemme know.


End file.
